


Without You

by Akru899



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Established Relationship, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, It's not so much about what happened, Kinda, M/M, Romance, Skinny Steve, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve has issues letting people help him, This was kind of a spur of the moment thing, and ends up hurting Bucky in the process, as it is about what happens, i really don't know what to tag this, it's a bit drabble-y, shrinkyclinks, though its not pertinent to the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akru899/pseuds/Akru899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's made a mistake, and he's not sure he can fix it this time.</p><p>A kind of angsty, almost-but-not-quite breakup fic in which Steve makes a decision to be better to those he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in about 2 days and it just kind of happened, and it's not like, EXTENSIVELY edited but I hope you guys enjoy this anyway. I'm sorry that it's a little speculative and the details are hazy, but at the same time it's on purpose, cause I wanted the focus to be on the aftermath and not be too held up by how we got here. Anyway, it's also really short, but I hope some of you find it worth the read anyway!

The frosty midnight air woke Steve up like a splash of water to his face. It was probably what he really needed; to just be awake.The events of the last week left him in a confused daze, a feeling of lostness he didn’t know he was capable of. He stared blankly at the streetlamp overhead for a moment, apparently forgetting why he was out there in the first place. He found himself doing this more often than anyone should, his eyes training on a single stationary object while his thoughts turned to air.

Steve began walking steadily towards nothing in particular. He needed to be out of that achingly quiet apartment, where the silence began to feel as if it were eating away at him. It weighed on him like guilt, filled his lungs with regret. He couldn’t take back what he said, but maybe soon he’d get the chance to make up for it.

With both hands in either coat pocket, he hugged the garment slightly tighter around himself. Steve was normally adept at getting by on his own, but this felt different. He felt adrift in the city, like any wayward gust of wind could sweep him away. This was a feeling he refused to get used to. Things wouldn’t change that easily.

The squeak of his boots on melting snow, the hum around him of heat generators on full blast - the tiny details of Brooklyn in the dead of winter all provided Steve with some small comfort. When things got their worst, he liked to find reminders that no matter what he was going through, things around him remained the same. Life always carried on, and his would, too. He found it harder to remember that this time around, when it felt like he would crush his entire world, already chipped and cracked, in his own hands if he wasn’t careful.

As his skinny legs carried him towards some unknown destination, it was a shock to feel hot tears on his face, almost numb from the cold. Friends and family throughout his life often scolded Steve for underestimating the severity of the situations he found himself in. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t stop going until he was completely broken down, ignoring the damage he collected along the way. For the past couple years, Bucky was the one watching from the sidelines, waiting for the moment to come when Steve couldn’t deny bandages anymore. Steve found it hard to reconcile the fact that that same person stormed out of their apartment without even a goodbye only a week ago.

Unreturned calls and unanswered texts seemed like the least of Steve’s problems, but nothing was further from the truth. The knowledge that Bucky was seeing each and every plea and apology and willingly ignoring them stung more than anything. Steve wanted to know, _needed_ to know, what Bucky was thinking, feeling. He needed to know if he was just wasting both their time.

Not that Bucky could ever be a waste of time for Steve. All he could hope was that Bucky felt the same way.

Eventually, Steve’s surroundings became more and more familiar, and in what felt like seconds, he found himself standing face to face with the fate of his and Bucky’s relationship.

As he eyed the brick steps in front of him, Steve sucked in a deep breath, watching the puff of air float away as he exhaled. At this moment, he decided it was past due that he became the hero of his own story. No one but him could fix this, and he intended to make it count.

Steve tried to muster up every drop of his confidence as he raised his knobby fist to knock on Natasha’s front door. He couldn’t suppress the adrenaline rush that followed after, heat rising to his face so quickly you’d think he hadn’t just been walking in the cold for 15 minutes.

“It’s 12 AM, what the hell do you-” Natasha started before registering Steve’s slight frame in front of her. “Oh, hey, Stevie.”

“Nat, I’m sorry to drop by so late, I just really need to-”

“Let me tell him you’re here,” Offered Natasha before Steve could finish, closing the door as she turned away into the apartment. Steve trotted slowly back down the steps, leaning against the steel handrail as he stared towards the empty roads. Now was when the anxiety began to seep in, his palms getting sweaty as he clenched and unclenched his hands, practicing the deep breathing technique Sam taught him until it caught in his throat when he heard the door open and close once again.

Steve whipped his head around and was met with Bucky’s steely gaze on him, his expression giving away nothing in that way he had. Steve, who couldn’t hide his emotions on his face for the life of him, was always slightly envious of it. It incited a certain feeling of mystery, a desire to know exactly what was going on behind his greyish-blues. Steve always thought of it as the first thing about Bucky that he fell in love with.

Neither man spoke a word as Bucky briskly made his way to the sidewalk, looking everywhere but directly at Steve. A minute passed in silence as Steve collected his thoughts, attempted to untangle the words jammed in his throat, before Bucky broke the silence.

“Look, Steve, I have work tomorrow, so whatever it is you have to say-”

“I’m sorry,” Steve finally huffed out. Bucky’s expression didn’t flinch, only staring at Steve until he began to feel a little nervous under his gaze.

“Is that it?” Asked Bucky calmly, eyebrows perked up expectantly.

“No- No, of course that’s not it,” Steve sighed, half to himself. Apologies had never been his strong suit, never finding the right words to say and how to say them. But this wasn’t just an apology, and Steve knew that. This was the difference between losing Bucky and feeling his warm body sleeping next to him in their bed again.

Bucky was the one leaning against the handrail now, watching as Steve fidgeted on the sidewalk. In this moment, Steve felt vulnerable in front of Bucky in a way he never had before. He felt exposed on the sidewalk, his heart on display for Bucky to poke and prod however he saw fit.

And the sad thing about that - the heartbreaking truth about it - was that Steve would have let him break it then and there.

“Captain misses you,” Steve muttered. That was only half-true. Their spirited Golden Retriever wasted no time in taking up Bucky’s side of the bed, waking Steve up in the middle of the night when Captain pushed a paw or two in his face while stretching. But Bucky had always been Captain’s favorite, and it showed in his absence.

“Steve,” sighed Bucky, “just go home, kid. Captain’s probably waiting for you and I have to-”

“No!” Steve interjected. He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw. “No, Buck. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep acting like I’m okay.”

“Then why are you here?” Bucky snorted bitterly. “I can’t do anything for you. You said it yourself.” There was a smirk on his face, but far from the warm kind. God, Steve missed the warm kind.

“That’s unfair, Buck, and you know I never meant-”

“No, you know what’s unfair? You know what’s really shitty? Putting so much time and effort into making sure your boyfriend knows that he’s loved and you’ll always be there for him, only for him to turn around and _shit_ on all of that the moment things turn out a bit too tough for him!”

The anger in Bucky’s voice was unlike anything Steve had ever heard - ever _wanted_ to hear - come out of Bucky. Bucky who loved to make new acquaintances - or anyone, really - laugh, Bucky who said shit like _holy cow_ and melted at the sight of dogs on the street. Steve attempted to ignore the self-loathing he felt for bringing this side of Bucky out in the first place. Then again, he had been dealing with a lot of self-loathing to begin with the past week, so maybe this was just par for the course.

“Bucky, you know I would _never_ hurt you on purpose,” said Steve, fighting back tears. About a million and one thoughts were running through his head at once, and most were wishes that this wouldn’t be happening in the first place.

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, well,” he said, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with his thumb, “you did a bang-up job, Stevie.”

Every atom in Steve, every single cell that made up his existence ached to reach out to Bucky and wipe his tears for him, hold him tight in the bitter cold, but for now he would have to be satisfied with taking a few tentative steps closer to him.

“Bucky…” whispered Steve, only a foot of space between the men now, “what can I do to fix this?”

Bucky remained silent except for the sound of his choked sobs. Stoically, he still refused to look Steve in the eyes, even as his own grew red and puffy. When it came down to it, maybe stoicism was their shared weakness.

“Maybe… not maybe, I _will_ try to be better. I _will_ be better. For you, Bucky. I can learn to stop pushing people away. I can learn to not be so prideful when I need help.”

Bucky’s tears came harder now, making Steve break into a sob himself. “Please let me make this better, Bucky. For us.”

“What you said really hurt, Steve,” croaked Bucky finally. “I just wanted to help.”

“I know, Buck, I know,” Steve intoned as he leaned in to hold Bucky, the taller man’s arms wrapping around him. “I’m so sorry.”

For the first time in a week, Steve felt like he could breathe again. He had begun to miss Bucky to the point that it physically hurt, as if he’d collapse if he had to see another day without him by his side. Holding him now brought more relief than any remedy. Holding him now meant that there was still a _them_.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Steve said as he pulled away from Bucky to look him in the eye, voice hoarse. A snowfall was beginning, flurries illuminated in the streetlamp catching in Bucky’s hair as Steve brushed it behind his ear. “You have to know that.”

“I just wanna be back to us,” sniffed Bucky, grabbing hold of Steve’s hand. “I really missed you, Steve.”

Steve fiddled absent-mindedly with the hem of Bucky’s coat, pulling Bucky down gently so their faces were only inches apart.

“God, you don’t know how badly I wanted to hear that.”


End file.
